


Cure What Ails You

by ouiser_boudreaux



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, I guess maybe?, I just wanted an excuse to use hysterical paroxysm in a story, Roleplay, Vaginal Fingering, they sorta lose the thread halfway through but it's fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:33:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27291241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouiser_boudreaux/pseuds/ouiser_boudreaux
Summary: Vissenta blinked. “What on earth?” She thumbed through the volume. It was horribly outdated, grossly sexist, and wholly without medical or even academic merit, in her humble opinion. As she flipped through the pages, she noticed a few well-worn dog-ears on pages with rather interesting anatomical illustrations. As she read further and examined the diagrams, she burst into laughter. She stopped short at one very detailed drawing and, with the slow grin of an idea taking hold, snapped the book shut.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 65





	Cure What Ails You

Vissenta dropped the stack of old, dusty tomes on Julian’s old desk in the palace library. “Gods alive, I hope I can find it,” she grumbled as she plopped down to thumb through her latest batch of potential sources. She’d been on a single-minded hunt for a particularly fussy piece of archaic spellwork, and after a week at it, she was starting to lose hope. Nadia was always gracious in letting Vissenta use the library, and Julian too, but Vissenta was starting to feel as if she was taking advantage of the Countess’ good will with the amount of time she spent in the notoriously finicky locked room.

After three volumes, Vissenta sighed and stood to stretch. She walked a slow circle around the desk, careful to avoid (and then pick up) the books that Julian had let fall to the wayside (and the floor) on his last afternoon of research. With some curiosity, Vissenta turned a few of the slim volumes over in her hands to see just what Julian had been up to while she’d been scribbling about runes and rituals.

In faded gilded lettering, one book bore a title that gave her pause:  _ On The Wandering Womb _ .

Vissenta blinked. “What on earth?” She thumbed through the volume. It was horribly outdated, grossly sexist, and wholly without medical or even academic merit, in her humble opinion. As she flipped through the pages, she noticed a few well-worn dog-ears on pages with rather interesting anatomical illustrations. As she read further and examined the diagrams, she burst into laughter. She stopped short at one very detailed drawing and, with the slow grin of an idea taking hold, snapped the book shut.

A glance out the window and then another at the grandfather clock by the door confirmed that it was nearly noon. Vissenta stashed the book in her bag, along with one or two of the smaller magic texts, and pulled out an apple. She alternated between taking bites of the crisp fruit and turning the many keys in the locks behind her, gears clicking into place. 

With a satchel full of books, Vissenta marched out of the palace and down the main thoroughfare into the city. The sun beat down mercilessly, without a cloud in sight, she shaded her eyes to keep her vision clear. Down past the Coliseum, through the market, past the shop at the city center, down, down to the Flooded District she went, her heart hammering with more than the exertion of the brisk walk. She only slowed when she saw the sign for Julian’s clinic swinging just ahead.

He was so pleased to see her, like he always was, his face breaking into a dazzling smile. “Finished already?” He turned his attention back to Tilde, scribbling on a scrap of paper and handing it to her with a flourish. “Take this to Mazelinka, and she’ll have your knees working like brand new again, I promise.”

Tilde looked over her shoulder to Vissenta, then back at Julian, her one good eye gone sly with amusement. “No more time for your favorite leechmonger? I see how it is, Devorak.”

“Oh, Tilde,” Vissenta said before Julian could stammer out an answer. “If he doesn’t take his lunch, he’ll never eat, and then he’ll be no use to anyone.” She took the slip of paper and carefully folded it to fit snugly in Tilde’s pack. “Say hello to the wife for us, and send our love.”

“She’s a smoother talker than you’ve ever been, you know,” Tilde said to Julian as she shouldered her pack. “I’ll see you two later, then.”

When the door clicked shut behind her, Vissenta turned to level a good long look at Julian. “So, Doctor Devorak.” Without further preamble, she pulled the book from her satchel. “So many interesting things in the library.”

Julian glanced at the volume and blushed furiously scarlet. “I, ah… yes, there are.” He began rearranging the odds and ends on his desk, straightening papers and sorting pens and doing anything but looking directly at Vissenta. “Historical research, you see.” He moved to spread a fresh, clean sheet on the exam table before checking and rechecking the bottles and jars that lined the shelves on the wall. “Nothing, uhm…” He finally turned to look at her, the flush of embarrassment still high on his cheeks.

With an exaggerated sigh, Vissenta collapsed onto the table, sprawling out along its length. “Oh, Doctor Devorak.” She pressed her hand to her forehead and let her eyelids flutter shut theatrically. “I’ve been ever so out of sorts lately.”

For just a moment, Julian stilled. He looked closer at Vissenta, studying her expression, and when she finally looked up at him and gave him a sly wink, he could barely contain his smile. “Is that so, miss…?”

“Senadz,” Vissenta replied. “You see, I’ve been to every doctor in town, and none of them seem to know what could be wrong with me.”

Julian crossed his arms. “A special case, then.” He made a show of looking at a sheet of paper on his desk. “I do have the next hour to spare.” He crossed the single room of the clinic and bolted the door. “And if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to ensure some privacy.”

Vissenta could barely contain a giggle, but she managed to keep it down and turned it into another long-suffering sigh instead. “Oh, thank you, Doctor Devorak. Thank you ever so much.” She fanned herself with the book in her hands. “You see, the problems have happened with  _ alarming _ regularity. I can’t even begin to fully explain it.”

Julian sat down in his chair and studied Vissenta for a long moment. “Could you perhaps try? Maybe a symptom or two to start.”

The litany of supposed symptoms of female hysteria were still running through Vissenta’s mind after her earlier perusal of the book now clutched in her hands. “I haven’t been able to sleep, doctor.” She fell into another swoon for good measure. “No sleep, and such irritability! And I have these…” She paused, giving Julian a significant look. “These urges, doctor. I’m always overcome with such urges.”

To his credit, Julian managed to keep his coolly professional facade mostly intact. Only the briefest signs, the smallest dilation of his pupils and the hitch in his breath and the slight shift in his hips in the chair, gave any hint to what this new game was doing to him. After a long while, and a few deep breaths, he stood and walked over to Vissenta. “Allow me,” he murmured, and very gently pressed his gloved fingertips to the pulse point at her wrist. “Hm.” He moved his hand from her wrist to her throat, counting the fluttering beats of Vissenta’s hammering heart, and furrowed his brow. “I see,” he said. He shook his head. “There is a treatment,” he said, and trailed off, giving her a significant glance.

Vissenta sat up on her elbows and schooled her expression into one of desperate hope. “Is there? Oh, please, doctor.”

“It’s… rather unconventional.” Julian looked down at Vissenta, unable to keep the flush from rising over his cheekbones. “If you’d be willing…”

Biting her lip, Vissenta nodded. She clasped her hands and wrung them just a bit. “Anything, Doctor Devorak.”

Julian flashed her a broad grin, just for a minute, before resuming his rather serious demeanor. He began to carefully remove his gloves, agonizingly slowly, one finger at a time, before carefully folding them and resting them on his desk. His eyes were trained on Vissenta, watching her watch him. “If you could, miss Senadz, please sit at the edge of the table.”

For a split second, Vissenta forgot her part entirely, engrossed in the sight of Julian’s hands. If asked years ago to name the most attractive part of someone, before she ever met Julian, she might have given a fairly standard answer: their eyes, their lips, their hair. Julian was a shining example of all those things, to be sure; Vissenta was particularly fond of all three in a special alchemical combination, namely when his hooded eyes met hers in a half-lidded gaze of hunger as his lips were pressed to her inner thigh and her hands were threaded through the thick tousle of gently curling deep red hair that fell over his forehead. But his hands - they were a different story altogether.

Ever since the night Julian had pressed those long, cool fingers to Vissenta’s side to draw away her eel bite, she could never stop thinking about his touch. So many things about Julian were questioning and unsure beneath his air of bravado, but he’d been right about one thing: his hands were as sure as death and taxes. Even now, without the aid of the Hanged Man’s magic granting supernatural healing abilities, his touch was always steady and assured.

(Once, Vissenta insisted that she could undress Julian with just her teeth. His sly smirk had turned to a soft look of surprise when she’d begun with his gloves, tugging gently at each finger, and when she’d finally removed them, she went back to graze his fingertips with her bottom teeth. The memory of the agonized moan she’d drawn out from him still sent shivers down her spine.)

Now, those mesmerizing fingers of his hovered uncertainly, just over Vissenta’s hips, and he gave her a questioning look. Vissenta blinked and tried her best to pull her focus back. “I’m so sorry, doctor, I was having a… an episode.” She gave him her best weary look and pressed her hand to her chest. “Whatever you must, please do it. I beg you.”

Julian’s hands settled lightly on the waistband of her pants. “If I may, then.”

“Oh!” Vissenta feigned shock. “Oh I… I suppose so.” She lifted her hips, biting down on her bottom lip again to control the grin threatening to break through and ruin the whole act. Of course, as Julian hooked his fingers to pull down everything and leave her bare and exposed on the sheet, she was soon biting her lip for entirely different reasons. “You weren’t wrong about unconventional,” she finally managed to breathe out.

Once more, Julian’s hands were resting on Vissenta’s hips. He skimmed down, running his fingers over the curve of her hipbones and over her upper thighs, gently nudging between her legs to guide her open. “Unconventional, but not altogether unpleasant.” He coaxed her legs even wider until Vissenta finally had to lean back and brace herself on her elbows in order to stay even somewhat upright. Gently, so gently, he traced his fingertips up along the innermost part of her thighs, never quite touching where she wanted him most, instead gazing intently as if he were truly conducting an examination.

Vissenta couldn’t suppress her shiver at the third pass of his hands. “What is this treatment?” She only just managed to gasp the last part of her question out as Julian ran a single finger along her slick, sensitive skin. 

“It’s known as hysterical paroxysm.” How Julian managed to keep his focus and coherence under these circumstances would have puzzled Vissenta to no end, if she hadn’t been the one currently doing her best to grind against that single, maddening finger of his. He stroked carefully, still with just one finger, his other hand flat on the table to brace himself as he kept each touch light. After a minute that seemed to stretch into an hour, he added another, dipping lower, rubbing gentle exploratory circles along her entrance, too shallow to even be proper thrusts.

That didn’t stop Vissenta from unconsciously trying to turn them into thrusts, though. Her head lolled to the side, eyelids fluttering with every feather-light stroke of his fingers, and she undulated her hips to meet him, to take him in more, to feel those steady hands as much as possible. “Hys… hysterical…” She gasped as Julian suddenly pressed into her, two fingertips becoming two fingers, deep enough that he could let his thumb rub gentle circles on the straining bud above.

“Paroxysm,” he said, offering up the word since apparently words had begun to fail Vissenta. She couldn’t see it, but his other hand was gripping onto the sheet for dear life to keep from reaching down to stroke himself in time with the rocking of his hand against her. Instead he slipped in a third finger, feeling the warmth of her, now letting the heel of his palm do the work of his thumb as Vissenta lost all pretense of the meek patient facade, pressing herself against his hand.

It took a great deal of effort to make Vissenta blush, and Julian, oh, he was making the effort. Heat crept up her cheeks and she soon forgot herself, forgot the game, forgot anything that wasn’t Julian’s clever fingers inside of her, crooking upwards, stroking her inside and out as he matched her rhythmic rocking to build up the tension, press her forward, push her ever closer to the brink.

“Ilya,” she gasped, all pretense gone. She pushed herself up abruptly, reaching out to take hold of Julian’s broad shoulders as he pressed into her, and she pulled him down into a bruising kiss as she clenched around his fingers. “I…” Anything else she might have said was lost, a fleeting thought that scattered like a shower of sparks as she clung to him, only dimly aware that she’d come dangerously close to slipping off the edge of the table, saved only by Julian’s free arm wrapping around her and his other hand splayed against the small of her back.

When her world put itself to rights again, she gently disentangled herself from him and tried her best to put her concerned patient face on once more. “I do believe I feel better.” Her voice was throatier and huskier than she intended, and she still felt the flush that burned from her neck to her ears. She closed her eyes and lay back for a moment, wondering if she could perhaps take a nap on the table when the soft  _ hum _ of Julian clearing his throat interrupted her bliss. 

When she finally looked back up at Julian, he’d managed to get himself cleaned up, down to the gloves being back on. He held out a folded bundle - her abandoned pants, the book, her satchel - and flashed an apologetic smile. “Lunch hour is almost over.”

Vissenta sat up and gratefully accepted the proffered effects, unfolding her pants with a businesslike flick of her wrist and pulling them back on. “Interesting research, Doctor.” She flashed Julian a cheeky grin.

Predictably, the tips of Julian’s ears turned bright red. “I’m not sure I can ever use this table again,” he muttered, but he was smiling all the same.

With a bright laugh, Vissenta packed away the book and slung her satchel over her shoulder. “Oh, just change the sheet again, it’ll be fine.” She stood up on tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. “And we can conduct further research at the shop tonight.”

“Mm.” Julian turned his head, catching Vissenta’s lip briefly. “Continued treatments, maybe. Doctor’s orders.”


End file.
